


Driver's Ed

by lamardeuse



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-04
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, Rodney, puddlejumper sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driver's Ed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the highwaymiles community on livejournal.
> 
> Please see the end notes for an additional warning.

John sighed and ran a hand through his increasingly unruly hair. He felt like the biggest heel in two galaxies.

Rodney sat in the forward passenger seat, hands gripping his knees with such force John was worried he’d pop his kneecaps right off. His eyes stared through the glass, unseeing. “I really, uh, really don’t want to do this,” he said weakly.

The last time they’d had a flying lesson, Rodney had been as eager as a puppy with a bone, overconfident in his fledgling abilities, ridiculously enthusiastic.

The last time they’d had a flying lesson, Gaul and Abrams had been sitting in the back seats, alive.

The last time Rodney had been in a jumper, Gaul and Abrams had been lying in the back, their bodies hastily wrapped in tarps from the cargo hold. John had tried to convince Rodney to let the other jumper take them, but Rodney had been quietly and desperately insistent, and John had given in. It was what he would have done if he’d been alone; he was just surprised Rodney felt the obligation to fallen comrades as strongly as he did.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been, really.

It had been three weeks since then, and John couldn’t let it slide any longer. He’d done his best to give Rodney some recovery time by picking missions that could be executed on foot, but the next planet had an orbital gate, and his team was the best choice for it.

“I know you don’t,” John said, “but it’s got to be done, Rodney. Ford and Teyla don’t have the gene to fly the jumper, and I need someone else who can – ”

“Yes, yes, in case you’re in no shape to fly, I get it,” Rodney interrupted. “In case you get shot, beaten up, get the life sucked – ” His mouth snapped closed around the rest of the sentence, and he sprang to his feet. “All right. I’ll take it up.”

John blinked; he’d planned on some easy orbits to get Rodney used to the controls again, not circuits and bumps. “Are you sure – ”

Rodney snapped his fingers impatiently; sighing, John pushed himself out of the chair, suddenly feeling older than Gaul had looked when he’d covered his mangled skull with the heavy canvas.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
They’d started fucking right after the Genii had tried to take over Atlantis. John hadn’t known exactly how it had started; his body had still been running on adrenaline and the instinct they’d drilled into him during his Spec Forces training, instinct that kept him alive, that allowed him to extinguish the lives of sixty people like he was stepping on ants on the sidewalk. He was still in that headspace when Rodney had walked into his quarters that night, still detached from everything that made him human, soul adrift and tethered to the rest of him by a half-rotted rope.

Rodney’s palm on his chest had slammed him back into himself, and suddenly his knees didn’t really want to work anymore and he was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Usually he just fell asleep and his subconscious worked this shit out by itself. By morning he’d have been fine, just _fine_, but no, Rodney had to come in and put his hand there, fingers straining to encompass both his heart and his dogtags and who the fuck did he think he was?

“I don’t, I wanted to, you saved my,” Rodney babbled, and then one or both of them might have taken a step forward and one or both of them might have started kissing the other one, and after that John didn’t give a damn who had started it. John found he liked the uncharacteristically soft, needful noises Rodney made while John went down on him, found he craved Rodney’s square and competent hands with their sure, strong grip, found he could forget just as easily in Rodney’s arms as he could alone in his cold, lonely bed.

When Dr. Heightmeyer came to talk to him the next day, he said, “Really, Doc, I’m okay,” and he was surprised when he realized he almost meant it.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
The muscles on Rodney’s forearms were bunched and straining as he maneuvered the jumper, his motions stiff and jerky. John thanked whatever Ancient geek had perfected the inertial dampeners, because flying with Rodney at the controls right now would be like taking a day trip on the back of a pissed-off rodeo bronc. It was a good thing there were no orbiting satellites or space junk, too, because Rodney would’ve managed to crash into every one of them by now.

“Look,” John said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know if this is working so well.”

Rodney shot him one of his patented you are the _biggest moron ever_ looks, and John’s fists clenched in his lap. “Well, of _course _it isn’t working,” he growled through gritted teeth. “What gave it away, the complete inability to stay on course? The convulsive trembling? The copious sweating?”

“Rodney,” John murmured, but then he realized he didn’t know what the hell to say, and he’d always been more about actions instead of words. Reaching over and setting the jumper on autopilot, he got to his feet. “Stand up.”

Rodney stared up at him, surprised and wide-eyed, but complied. “Well?” he demanded, when John didn’t move. “Do you want to switch places or not?”

John cupped Rodney’s cheek in the palm of his hand. “Not,” he answered, leaning in and softly pressing his mouth to Rodney’s.

Rodney pulled back almost immediately, scowling. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m attracted to copious sweating,” John retorted, leaning in again.

This time Rodney held him at bay with a firm palm in the center of his chest. “That’s not funny,” he said darkly.

John sighed; the fact that he’d gone about this entirely the wrong way failed to shock him. “It wasn’t meant to be funny. Well, I mean – ” He trailed off, frustration welling in him already.

Rodney’s scowl was downgraded to a frown. “You really are bad at this, aren’t you?”

“Gee, thanks,” John drawled.

“No, it’s just that I’m usually the one in the relationship who sucks at expressing his feelings, and it’s nice to finally be with – ” Rodney stuttered to a halt “ – well, that is, I mean, not necessarily _be _– ”

_Now who sucks? _John thought.

“ – but that’s beside the point, really – ”

“Rodney,” John said, taking him by the arms and gently shoving at him until they’d exchanged places in the tight space, “let me try something, okay?” He sat down in the seat and patted his thighs. “C’mon.”

Rodney’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You want me to sit – on your lap? Isn’t that a little – um, kinky?”

John rolled his eyes. “I promise I have no designs on your maidenly virtue.”

Rodney flipped a hand. “I’m not exactly a lightweight, you know.”

“Rodney, _sit down_.”

“Okay, okay, sitting.” Rodney settled gingerly on his lap, and John slid his hands down Rodney’s arms.

“Take her off autopilot.”

Rodney shivered when John’s hands brushed over the backs of his own, but he obeyed. “Good,” John murmured. “Now. I want you to nose her down into the atmosphere, and head for the pole.”

Rodney’s fingers danced over the board, the tremors easing under the steady pressure of John’s certainty. “North or south?”

“Take your pick.”

Rodney called up the map on the HUD and grabbed at the stick. “Easy,” John murmured, wrapping his fingers around Rodney’s, showing him the proper grip. “Nice and loose.”

Rodney sucked in a breath. “This _is _kinky.”

“Just do it,” John remonstrated, and amazingly, the tension in Rodney’s fingers did ease a little.

John’s thighs were going numb by the time they reached the pole, but he didn’t care, because Rodney’s hands were square and competent under his own and his body was warm and solid against his chest, and John smiled into Rodney’s shoulder blade as the jumper swooped gracefully over the infinite ocean.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
_One Year Later_   
__   
__

“Okay,” Rodney gasped, “I have to admit I’ve thought about this for a while.”

“Nnnngghhh,” John said, because that was about all he could manage with his attention divided between keeping control of the jumper and sliding up and down on Rodney’s cock.

“You know, this is probably the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done,” Rodney added, and great, of course _he _could talk, he wasn’t trying to fuck and fly at the same time, and oh, _God_, that felt really, really –

“You ever done this before?” Rodney asked, biting John’s shoulder. “In a helicopter?”

“You have _no idea_ how hard it is to fly a chopper, do you?” John demanded, twisting around to glare at Rodney out of the corner of his eye.

Rodney did a little twisting of his own, and his cock hit just the right place to make a shower of sparks trail across John’s vision, and then Rodney was shifting forward and one of his fingers jabbed at the console, engaging the autopilot.

“I think,” Rodney said, hands bracketing John’s hips and settling him fully on Rodney’s lap, “that it might be a good idea to concentrate on one thing right now. For – for safety’s sake.”

John started slamming down onto him, seeking more contact, his own hands clenching on the arms of the chair to give him more leverage. “I’m – all about safety,” he breathed, back bowing as Rodney’s fingers wrapped around John’s cock with just the right amount of pressure.

“Good,” Rodney whispered. “That’s – good.”

The blue curve of the planet beneath them momentarily disappeared as John’s vision grayed out, and he came back to himself with Rodney’s arms wrapped around him and Rodney’s thighs trembling beneath his own. Grunting, he tried to shift off Rodney’s lap, but Rodney only held him tighter.

“Rodney, you must be losing all the feeling in your legs right about now.”

Rodney’s forehead pressed into John’s shoulder blade. “I’m fine,” he answered. “Just – stay like this for a minute?”

“Okay,” John murmured, feeling oddly small and powerful at the same time. Disengaging the autopilot, he pulled back on the stick and nudged the jumper out of orbit.

“Hey, you’re good,” Rodney observed, as the ship climbed into the blackness of space.

“Thanks. I’ve been taking lessons,” John said, and smiled when Rodney’s body began to shake with silent laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: references to canon character deaths.
> 
> First published May 2006.


End file.
